


Parenthood is the scariest hood to go through

by Tabata



Series: Leoverse [21]
Category: Glee
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 08:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13900341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabata/pseuds/Tabata
Summary: Leo and Blaine have to face the worst nightmare for parents: being called in the principal's office to discuss some issues regarding one of their children.





	Parenthood is the scariest hood to go through

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This story is a spin-off sequel for Broken Heart Syndrome. This means that, despite not being properly set after BHS (but that's only because BHS is probably never going to have a proper ending and we'll keep talking about these people forever), it depicts things happening way late in the 'verse, and that may be on varying degrees of spoiler.
> 
> written for: Cow-t #8  
> prompt: SAFE, slash

Leo looks at the last e-mail that has just been downloaded and frowns, reading the name of the sender. The twins' school sends them a weekly newsletter to inform them of everything that happened the past week and everything that will happen the next, and some of the teachers write them about equipment that's needed or to congratulate them for their children's achievements, like when Harper won the attendance award last year for never missing a day of school.

But this is different, it's an _official communication_ – no other specification in the subject line – and sounds terribly serious. The e-mail itself is nothing but more cryptic. Mrs. Miller, principal at Oak Crest Elementary School – the very uptown school Blaine had demanded to enroll his offspring in, the very same school Timothy attended – invites Logan's fathers to meet with her as soon as possible, in a suitable date for them, in order to discuss some issues that arose recently in one of Logan's essays.

Leo has really no idea of what she's talking about. The e-mail sounds worryingly like one of those remarks that Mr. Shuester was forced to send Kurt when Leo complained a little too much in his class and that would give his father alleged heart attacks every time, except that Leo was a teenager and restless and he wanted his father to suffer, and Logan is six going to seven and not exactly the rebellious type. Not knowing what to make of this e-mail, he stands up and takes his phone downstairs.

Blaine has currently his hands full with several reviews he has to write – Leo knows that because this is what he usually does when he's sitting on the couch for hours with his laptop on his legs – and, judging by the straight line of his lips, the same he reserves to him and the kids when he scolds them, a lot of theater directors will change job this month.

“Your son is a criminal,” Leo says, once he reaches the end of the staircase.

“Which one?” Blaine asks, without raising his eyes from the keyboard.

“The small one,” Leo answers, sitting down next to him.

Finally, Blaine looks up and takes off his reading glasses. Thankfully, he can still see his husband, it's the tiny font on the screen that gives him problems. “Now, that I find hard to believe,” he comments.

“And I would agree with you if I hadn't just received this,” Leo says, giving him the phone. He watches his husband as he quickly read the short e-mail. “I don't know what to think of it.”

“Do you know anything about this essay?”

Leo shakes his head. “There was nothing weird in the last two I read.” He tries to remember if he noticed something out of the ordinary but there's nothing that comes to his mind. It's usually Leo who check the kids' homework in the evening and, apart from Logan's unregulated use of the word _very_ , there was nothing that could prompt such communication. “Do you think it's because of his spelling? Or his handwriting?” Logan is not very good at either. 

“Uh, well, I don't think so,” Blaine says. “I mean, he's a second-grader, he's not supposed to be Hemingway, is he?”

“Maybe he's dyslexic too?” Leo suggests. Timmy had the same problem growing up. It would explain is handwriting or the fact that he's not that enthusiastic when it comes to books, which breaks Leo heart every time. But it wouldn't be that bad if he was. Leo used to tutor a couple of dyslexic kids when he was in college and he personally tutored Timmy later on.

“He might be,” Blaine nods. “Or maybe he just wrote something he shouldn't have.”

“Should we talk to him first?”  
Blaine seems to think about it. “No, she didn't mention that he knows, and if there's something wrong with the way he writes, maybe it's better if we don't alarm him ahead of time. I don't want to make him anxious or anything. Let's hear what this is all about first.”

Blaine is the anxiety expert of the house, so Leo just nods. “Alright. When are we meeting her?”

Blaine checks his calendar. “Tell her we can go tomorrow, right before picking up the twins if that's okay with you,” he says and sighs. “I've tons of work to do, but sooner is better than later.”

“I let you work then.” Leo leans on him and leaves a kiss on his cheek. “And I go play the perfect housewife and make lunch.”

“Do you have a cute apron and everything?” Blaine asks, not looking up but still managing to sound interested.

“I can arrange that, dear.”

Blaine smirks. “Take notes for tonight.”

*

The principal's office is not less colorful than the rest of the building because this is an elementary school – a very expensive one, but still an elementary school – and not even the highest authority in charge is exempt from the mandatory bright green walls and drawings pinned to the wall with tape.

There's a life-size statue of Raul the tiger – the horribly named school mascot – in a corner and a series of very well drawn and actually quite nice posters on recycling, bullying prevention, road safety and classroom rules: which are raise your hand, listen, be a friend and help clean up. Four things their children struggle with every day.

Leo is only grateful that Mrs. Miller keeps two normal-size chairs in front of her desk, and not those miniature ones that are in the classrooms. Every time he and Blaine have a parent-teacher meeting, Leo always feels stupid sitting on those. His legs and arms, everything in him, seem to take up too much space.

“I apologize for making you wait,” Mrs. Miller says, finally entering the room. “Bureaucracy.”

She is very young to be a principal – she must be around forty – and she always dresses as if she was ready to leave for some trip in the desert at any moment. Cargo pants, short-sleeved shirts in natural colors and the inevitable light scarf around her neck. She doesn't _look_ the part – nobody in this school ever leaves the house wearing less than a thousand dollars worth of clothes and jewelry – but she's great at the job she does. Blaine loves her because she's nice and practical, she knows the school rules and she's ready to break them if necessary. Basically it's him, but without the Armani suit.

“Don't worry,” Blaine smiles at her. “We've hardly been here ten minutes.”

She shakes both their hands while she sits down behind her desk. Then, she retrieves a folder from her desk drawer and opens it in front of her. “Alright, here we go.”

“Is there something wrong with Logan?” Leo can't hold himself back any longer. He only likes suspense in movies and books. Everyday life, not so much. He's a strong hater of the words _we need to talk_ not followed by the actual discussion.

It doesn't seem like Mrs. Miller wants to take a specific position. She opens her mouth, then closes it. Then she sighs, looking up at them. “Honestly? We've met each other a few times already and I've always found you to be very nice people, very attentive and involved in your kids' lives, so I'm inclined to believe that there is no problem at all. But I'll admit that I'm baffled,” she says. There's a tinge of confusion and incredulity in her voice, something Leo doesn't know what to make of.

“Did he do something?” Blaine asks right away. He knows Logan is a very mild child, but he's a boy and they sometimes tend to have raging bouts more than girls do. Timmy had a phase like that too when he was about Logan's age. The principal called Blaine because his son had pushed another kid on the playground and then proceeded to punch him twice in the face. Timmy had never been a violent kid before, but he had just changed school, he was stressed out for what was happening in his house and for the first time in his life that had been the only way he could find to be heard by his father. Blaine had understood right away and listened to him, so it had never happened again. But to be called in the principal's office it only needs to happen once.

“Two days ago in Logan's class Miss Hansel, his teacher, talked about families,” Mrs. Miller explains. “The kids were asked to write a short essay about theirs, and Logan wrote this.”

She pushes forward a piece of paper with a short text written in Logan's uncertain handwriting. They both leans forward to read it. Logan is not a big fan of long explanations – like his father is – and he uses punctuation in a very arbitrary way. But in this very case, the problem lies in the content. The text, excluding misspellings and his questionable grammar, goes like this:

_My name is Logan Anderson Karofsky-Hummel._  
I have two dads. Daddy's name is Blaine and he is an actor in the theater.  
Dad's name is Leo and he is young and a writer.  
They love each other and smooch a lot around the house.  
But sometimes dad breaks up and he takes a lot of pills. Then they go away.  
I have a twin sister. Her name is Harper and we have the same birthday, but two cakes.  
I have an older brother. His name is Timmy and he's twenty. He is blonde because he was adopted. And he likes pigs. His girlfriend is Tana. She is my dad's sister and my aunt.  
I have many grandparents. But Marge and Rod are not real. But I love them.  
My family is very small and very happy and I like it very much. 

“Oh boy,” Leo rests against the back of his chair, counting how many wrong things there are in the text and how many of them will send them to jail. like every time his kids do something crazy, his first though is expatriation.

Blaine sighs, instead. He's been there, done that. The twins are his second and third child after all. He knows stuff. “I can understand now why you are baffled.”

Mrs. Miller seems to be very relieved that they understand. It's usually easier to deal with reasonable parents who are able to see past their love for their children. She had a few discussions with parents in the past few months, and most of those people she wanted to slap in the face. She is there to teach children how to be in the world, she owes nothing to their parents. That was other educators' job. “His teacher told me that she tried to talk to him. She asked him if that was exactly what he wanted to say and why he had written those things, but he got upset when he started to sense that she thought he lied. What confused us is that his sister wrote nothing like that, except for the names. That is why I had to call you.”

Of course Harper didn't write any of that. She's already way smarter than her brother and she senses when something wouldn't be read the right way by people not living in their house. Logan just thinks whatever is normal for him is normal for everybody, like any other six-year-old would. Leo gives his husband a desperate glance and Blaine sighs, taking this burden upon his shoulders.

“Logan got upset because he didn't lie, Mrs . Miller,” Blaine says, calmly. “As weird as it sounds, that is our family.”

She looks at them and she's clearly so dumbfounded that she doesn't know what to say. Or she does, but she doesn't know how to say it without sounding accusing or rude. That is why Blaine decides to come to the rescue and let her off the hook. “My older son really has a relationship with my husband's sister but what Logan forgot to say is that Timmy and Tana are about the same age, in fact she is only three years older than him. They didn't grow up together at all because my husband and his family have been estranged for a very long time, so there's no aunt-nephew relationship between them and never has been.”

“Plus,” Leo intervenes with a loud sigh, “there's no blood tie whatsoever between them as he's been adopted and I was too, while my sister is my adoptive father's biological daughter.”

Mrs. Miller starts to understand, and awareness mixed with relief dawn in her eyes. “You really know how to confuse people, do you?” She comments. Then she clears her throat. “That was probably unprofessional and I apologize, but I couldn't help myself.”

“Don't worry,” Blaine smiles. “We understand that some of our dynamics are complicated, especially if explained like that. I suppose this was the main reason for this meeting, but now that I've read the essay, I imagine there are other things you want to ask us.”

“Yes, and I apologize in advance if that makes you uncomfortable, mister Karofsky-Hummel,” she answers, looking at Leo this time. He was expecting that, so he's not worried. “But this is what I'm required to do. It's the school policy.

“I understand,” he sighs. “You want to know about the pills.”

“If it's possible, yes.”

Blaine reaches out to hold his hand and Leo smiles at him before answering. “I have episodes of severe anxiety and sometimes I need to be medicated. What Logan described as _a lot of pills_ are never more than three, which I took as directed by my doctor. He might have seen me taking a few. Three is a pretty big number for him, especially because he himself doesn't like to take pills of any kind when he is sick. As for when me and his father _go away_ , it happens sometimes that I'm so upset that I need to unwind, so my husband takes me on a little vacation to calm my nerves. In these occasions, we leave the twins with their older brother or with his grandparents, who I can assure you are very real, despite what he says.”

“Marge and Rod are the parents' of Timmy's biological mother,” Blaine butts in, “whom I knew very well. I've always involved them in their grandchild's life, even after she died and I adopted him, and due to a series of circumstances, they have been of great help with the twins as well. Unfortunately my parents are not with us anymore and, as I said, we're not that close to my husband's parents, so they are effectively the twins' grandparents. But a few weeks ago, someone said to Logan they are not his _real_ grandparents because they are not his parents' parents, and he took it as he takes everything else. He thinks that saying they are not _real_ is the correct way to describe them. He is very determined to use correct terms, even when he gets them wrong.”

Mrs. Miller read the essay again to make sure she didn't forget anything, but she's actually chuckling, so whatever tension there was is completely gone. “Now I also understand the whole story about the blonde brother,” she comments, amused. She wasn't here when Timmy went to school, so she didn't know.

“His brother's blondness is the only way he understands adoption yet,” Blaine chuckles. “We tried to explain to him that he's not adopted because he's blonde, but of course that's the only difference he sees between himself and his brother, or the rest of the family. Right now he thinks all blonde people are adopted, which is creating a few problems, but I promise we're working on that.”

“I don't have any doubts. And also I wouldn't want to be you every time he says that to a blonde kid,” she jokes, joining in the chuckling. Then, she shakes their hands, standing up and inviting them to do the same. “Again, I'm really sorry if I called you in, but we thought what was written in the essay required it. Sometimes this kind of tales are a cry for help, and it's better be safe than sorry with kids.”

“No need to worry,” Blaine smiles, dashingly. “I'd rather have you call me for a suspected problem and find out it's nothing than having one of my kids' problem overlooked for whatever reason.”

She walks them to the door and says goodbye, reminding them the upcoming parent-teacher meetings, to which Leo really struggles not to make a face.

*

As they sit on a bench in the park near the school eating gelato from the best Italian ice cream place in town, they both look in front of them, pensively as the twins run around screaming and laughing. “What happened today?”

Blaine takes another spoonful of _stracciatella_ before answering that question. He shouldn't eat any type of ice cream, let alone one of the fattest kind ever conceived by human mind, but he thinks today he deserves it. And he can lose the extra pounds running a little longer tomorrow, anyway. “I think the everyday insanity of our home seeped through to the real world.”

Leo nods, slowly. “Do you think we risked them calling the children services on us?” Leo asks again, perfectly calm for once. 

“I think so.”

Leo nods again. “Did we avoid that spectacularly?”

Blaine scrapes the end of his tiny cup with his green plastic spoon. “Oh, absolutely.”

“Great.” Leo offers him his fist and Blaine fistbumps him without saying a word.

If they ever ask Leo what being parents feels like, he will say that it's exactly like this: firstbumping your husband at four in the afternoon while eating gelato because you risked jail but in the end nobody arrested you.


End file.
